


I'll Be Seeing You

by pinklights



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memory Loss, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mutual Pining, Old Steve Rogers, Pining, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Red Room (Marvel), Smut, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-06-24 03:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19715695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinklights/pseuds/pinklights
Summary: He didn't remember her. Natasha knew this because whenever he'd pass her in the hall or when he'd hang out at the facility with Steve and Sam, he'd look at her like he'd look at every other person in the room. Her Soldier didn't look at her like that. Her Soldier looked at her with warmth and tenderness, a breath of fresh air in the icy cage that was the Red Room. He didn't remember her and maybe that was her own fault.-In which Bucky doesn't remember Natasha at all and he probably never will, and it's eating away at her. Set after Endgame.





	1. Chapter 1

Coming back, essentially from the dead, was a trip. One minute she was falling and the next thing she knew, she was coughing up blood on a platform in the woods. The universe has been restored and Natasha's sacrifice worked. _Great._ Except Steve was an old man and Tony was gone. SHIELD, or whatever was left of it, was a mess. It was a project she undertook to keep herself busy. It was also the only way she could supervise the rehabilitation of one Winter Soldier.

His time in Wakanda did wonders for him. Well, the brainwashing was gone at least. He still had his traumas which he was working on with a therapist - it was SHIELD mandated. Officially, he was a dead man. But then again half of the world was, which made lines blurry when it came to public records. No one was allowed to know about his existence outside of the agency. He was free to walk around the city, got his own place set up near the facility and everything, but he was to remain a ghost. 

That didn't stop Steve from inviting him over every other night for dinner, convinced his friend wasn't eating properly. Sometimes she'd join them on Steve's insistence. She'd oblige because she didn't want to miss the opportunity to crack jokes at him but a part of her said yes so that she could further observe the Winter Soldier in a place where he felt comfortable, to see if he'd bring up their time together when she was younger. But he never did.

_ He didn’t remember her. _

Natasha knew this because whenever he'd pass her in the hall or when he'd hang out at the facility with Steve and Sam, he'd look at her like he'd look at every other person in the room. Her Soldier didn't look at her like that. Her Soldier looked at her with warmth and tenderness, a breath of fresh air in the icy cage that was the Red Room.

Bucky Barnes was sitting right across from her at the dining table with his leg propped up on the chair beside him, twirling a steak knife between his fingers. If she wasn't so concerned about how to ask him if he remembered her, she'd be finding this little trick extremely attractive. She bit her tongue instead, focused on the food.

"Nat, weren't you there too?"

Natasha blinked, taking a quick second to realize that Steve was talking to her. "Huh? Where?"

"Russia, the KGB--you told me before. I thought you would have run in the same circles as Bucky here."

_Same circles._ Natasha almost laughed but the way Bucky Barnes was looking at her was different from all the times he's looked at her before. He was curiously waiting for her answer. He didn't remember her at all. "Yeah, I've heard of him. How can you not?"

"But you've never met?" 

Natasha kept calm and smiled. The Winter Soldier wasn't dangerous now, but he still had his training. With the way he was looking at her, she could tell he was assessing her every move. She'd do the same. If she were in his position, she wouldn't trust anything she said. "I think we did. The Soviets loved scrambling brains so I don't know if I remember correctly."

They left the conversation at that and Bucky Barnes reeled back and continued eating his food. Steve told more stories about his long life, about the fun he's had. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little bit jealous. But at the same time, she couldn't imagine her life any other way.

After dinner, she and Bucky Barnes left Steve's apartment together. She's ridden in an elevator with him before, but never alone. She's only recently started noticing how he balled his hands into fists at his sides when the doors closed. He took a breath and held it until they opened again.  Of course, he'd be a bit claustrophobic. He was stuffed in an icebox for decades. Just thinking about it made her want to go back in time so that she could stop it - stop what they did to him because of her.

"So," he started as they hovered outside of Steve's building. "We've met?"

Being alone with him made her nervous. It wasn't just that he was one of the only people in the world who could kill her on the spot. It was also the fact that she's been wanting to ask him if he remembered her at all. "It was a brief encounter."

Bucky Barnes nodded his head, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It was late and Steve lived in a quiet neighborhood which meant that no one was around but he insisted on hiding it. She remembered a time when she told her Soldier that she liked his metal hand, that she wasn't scared of it or him. She remembered how softly it used to touch her, how careful.

"How brief?" 

Natasha raised an eyebrow at his direction. "Do you remember absolutely nothing?"

Bucky shook his head and Natasha's heart dropped to her stomach. "You said it yourself. Soviets liked scrambling brains."

"You need a ride home?" It was better not to press it any further. It was fine, really, that he didn't remember. She's been living with their memories for years. The rest of her life wouldn't make much of a difference.

"Nah. I think I'll walk."

She nodded and walked towards her car, turning back to him. "I'll see you around."

"Hey," he called out, walking down the stoop. "Maybe you can tell me about that time one day."

"I told you, my brain is as much of a mess as yours."

"Nah," he shook his head, a smirk appearing on his face. "That might have worked with Steve but Steve's always been a bit slow."

He was better than she thought. Even after all these years, he was still as sharp as a knife. She conceded, no use avoiding it now that he's gotten a lead on her. Natasha ducked her head and gave him a smile in return. "Alright. One day."

"Goodnight, Romanoff."

"Goodnight, Barnes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I started another one! This one was prompted by the question: what if only one of them remembered their past and the other had to go through carrying that alone? And so here we are! Thank you for reading. Comments and kudos are appreciated as always <3


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha never thought that she'd be in this position again, with her arm twisted behind her back, a knee digging into her spine, and the Winter Soldier pinning her down onto a training mat. "Surrender?"

"You're enjoying this way too much." She didn't realize she was smiling until the muscles on her face relaxed. She tried getting out of his grasp again, but he was too heavy for her and she was afraid he'd pop a joint.

"Well, you've beaten me the last three times." He loosened his grip on her before pushing off of her completely. "I think I deserve to bask in my victory."

He held out his hand for her and she took it, grateful that he didn't actually pop her shoulder out of its socket. God knows he's done that before. More than once. "Okay, I guess you can gloat."

"So," he kept his hand on hers as she steadied herself. "You gonna tell me about that time now?"

Ah yes, the dreaded question. She'd forgotten for a moment that he asked to learn more about their past. Natasha slipped her hand away to rub on her shoulder, stretching her neck a little to relieve some of the tension. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know. Everything?" Bucky Barnes was chatty, she noted. Chattier than her Soldier was, definitely. She didn't know if she liked it or not. "I remember my time with Steve clear as day, up until the train. Everything in between that until that time on the bridge was a blur. I'm trying to-"

"It's okay. You don't have to explain. I know what it's like to only have pieces of yourself."

He sighed and unwrapped his hands as Natasha walked over to where her water bottle was. He followed, sitting on the bench beside her, watching her like a hawk. "So... that time. In Russia."

"Do you really _not_ remember anything?" 

"I wouldn't be asking if I did."

He was right and that made Natasha sigh. There was a conflict within her. One part of her wanted to let him know everything so that she could be done with it and move on. The other part wanted to leave him in the dark so that he didn't have to bear with the fact that he couldn't remember her and be guilty about it. Because the Winter Soldier - _Bucky Barnes_ \- carried a lot of guilt with him already. She didn't want to add to that. 

Natasha tossed a metaphorical coin but it didn't give her an answer, it kept spinning, refusing to choose a side. She went with her gut. "I met you when I was younger. While I was training."

"The Black Widow program."

Her ears perked up. "Right. You remember it?"

"I've read about it." _Oh._ "Girls trained to become spies."

"To become weapons," she corrected. The Black Widow program did not allow for human errors. Spies were given at least that every once in a while. Weapons were supposed to be perfect. "Not all of us made it out in one piece."

" _You_ did."

"I had a good teacher."

"Oh? Anyone I know?"

Natasha searched his eyes for a glimpse of recognition from him but there was nothing there. She wasn't there inside his brain, his heart. She was extracted, just like they promised her they would. When she didn't answer immediately, Bucky's smile faltered. 

"It was me." He furrowed his brows, sweat dripping down the side of his face from the workout they both just had. "Am I wrong?" 

"I was advancing at a faster pace than the others and the Winter Soldier was sent to train me. He had to prep me for real missions, make me as deadly as he was if not more. Teach me English," she smiled fondly at the memory. They'd speak in English during training to practice her accent, to practice her mannerisms. She had to appear like a convincing American. It was a fun exercise.

She could see the gears turning behind his eyes, Bucky scouring his own mind for these memories she was sharing with him, but when he refocused on her face she knew he was still lost. "Why can't I remember any of this?" 

Natasha didn't want to tell him that it was because of her, that they had to drag him away from her that night because he resisted their commands. "Because that was your punishment."

"For what?" 

"Insubordination." Dodging his questions with vague answers wasn’t going to make him any less curious but the metaphorical coin was still spinning, refusing to land on a side.

"Impossible. How? The codes they put in, the training, the brainwashing-" 

"You really don't remember anyth-" 

"Why would they erase training Black Widows from my memory? What did I do?"

She kept her gaze on him, analyzing each twitch on his face, his neck, how his mouth turned into a frown the more he worked on the puzzles. " _Widow._ Just one."

It took him a couple of seconds, the realization hit him so hard that he flinched. His eyes met hers, searching her for answers to the idea he was forming in his head. _Finally._ Her heart was sinking deeper into her stomach with each passing moment of silence. 

"You--" He looked away, shaking his head. "What happened? Did I hurt you?"

"No, it's not that." _God,_ it was never that. If anything, she was the one who caused him pain in the end.

Natasha wanted to reach out for him, put a hand on his shoulder and tell him that everything was going to be okay, that she was there for him, but she stopped herself. She kept herself calm, collected. She couldn't give herself away. The metaphorical coin of bullshit decision making kept spinning. She wanted to take back tossing it in the first place.

"Why can't you just tell me?" He looked back at her, his eyes so blue she felt like she could drown in them. Natasha desperately wished that she could tell him straight out. But how could she? How could she share something like that? No words would even begin to describe how fucked up that time in their lives was. "Please... Nat-"

"I hated the Winter Soldier at first. He made me look bad." _Fuck the fucking coin of fate._ He's been tangled in her web for a while now, might as well let him know. Natasha took a deep breath. It was her turn to look away. "They needed me to be perfect and that required a little bit of breaking, I guess."

"Fuck. Natasha, what did I--"

"No. No, listen to me. Just _listen._ " He grew quiet, turning his whole body in her direction. She could feel his eyes on her, analyzing every inch of her like she was some sort of mark. Maybe at that moment, she was his. "Somewhere along the way, the Winter Soldier started helping me get up every time I fell on my ass. He'd ask me if I was alright after training. He started looking at me differently. Acted differently."

Natasha looked at him, catching his eyes. She wished so badly for him to remember, for him to continue this story himself. But he still couldn't recognize her. He still wasn't looking at her the same.

"I put you in danger." It wasn't a question. It broke her heart that his initial reaction was to assume that he hurt her.

She put a hand on his knee. That seemed to snap him out of it. "Stop assuming the worst of yourself. _I'm_ the one who put _you_ in danger."

"You're not making any sense." 

Natasha pulled her hand away from him and stood to start collecting her things. The action was calm, casual. She made an effort to show him that she wasn't actively running away from their conversation. "I shouldn't have said anything. I wanted to help you recover your memories but it doesn't seem to be working. Maybe SHIELD's doctors would be able to help you with that."

"Where are you going?"

"I have a meeting in like thirty minutes." She slung her gym bag over her shoulder and headed towards the door. "I'll see you around."

Natasha took maybe three steps before she felt fingers wrapping around her wrist. The grip wasn't forceful but it wasn't easy to get out of either. She turned to look back at him, quirking an eyebrow.

"What were we, Natasha?"

Her heart was pounding against her rib cage and she felt so small underneath his gaze. She felt like this before, when they first met. She swore she'd never feel it again. Natasha put her hand on his and slowly pried his hand off of her. 

"We were more than this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andddd I uploaded 2 chapters in a row because I felt like the first one was too short. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky Barnes cornered her at the new SHIELD facility after a meeting. It's been a month or so since she's seen him since he'd been assigned to accompany the new Captain America on missions. The new team had just finished their debriefing and Sam went ahead to crash in a bed somewhere. Bucky Barnes had other plans.

"Hi," he said, blocking her way to the elevator. "Can we talk?"

Natasha considered this for a moment, crossing her arms over her chest. "About?"

"I found something. Files. We were in a facility in Ukraine and this old Hydra facility had files. Tucked away in a dusty corner. You were in them. The Black Widow program and I--"

Natasha took his arm and dragged him into the nearest empty room. She almost rolled her eyes at the irony of it all, convinced her life has become a twisted joke. "What did you find?"

It was dark but it didn't take a lot of time for her eyes to adjust to the dark. They didn't bother turning on the lights. The little that seeped through the windows was enough for them. "Red Room files about the Black Widow candidates. I barely got a chance to take a look at them before the place started self-destructing."

"That's very _retro_ of them."

"They put you through a reset program. It cited insubordination and fraternizing with _redacted_ as the cause."

Natasha watched him closely, looking for his eyes in the dark. There was a frown on his face. She kept quiet to let him speak, not really knowing what to say back to him. She never thought they'd kept any paperwork about them, especially after they'd put the Winter Soldier in ice.

"Was it because of me? You said we were _more_. Natasha, you need to tell me what I was to you."

He was still in his tactical gear, his arm catching the light a bit. It reminded her of a relatively simpler time. A time when they could be locked inside dark rooms together and feel nothing but content. 

"You were my teacher and then you became more." _You'd sneak into my room at night and we'd lie awake in the dark with nothing between us._ "We had a brief affair." _You told me you felt human when you were with me._ "It wasn't a big deal." _They punished us both for it._

"Natasha," he breathed out, taking a step closer towards her. "I'm sorry, I can't--"

"I know. It's fine." She smiled, hoping to god he couldn't see how dead her eyes were. She couldn't manage to lie to him like this, in the dark, where they used to be so honest with each other. "It's not your fault."

"Why did they let you keep your memories?"

"We had our own punishments, Barnes. Yours was to forget and mine was to remember." They made sure she remembered what made her weak so that she could learn from it and never do it again. They took her from his memories so that he'd turn back into a machine made for killing.

Bucky reached for her, his fingertips brushed against her cheek before she pulled away from him. She can't. It's been a couple of months since their last talk and she thought he'd dropped it but it looked like he only grew more curious. More confused. He still couldn't remember her. "You're disappointed that I can't remember."

He wasn't wrong but he didn't need to know that. Natasha looked towards the door, desperately wanting to leave. She couldn't understand the heavy feeling in her chest. It was like she was suffocating. "I told you it's fine. You don't need to remember."

"But _you_ need me to," his voice was low, almost a whisper. He wasn't wrong about that either. "How long were we together, Natasha?"

"Why does it matter? It's been year--"

" _Natasha._ "

"It wasn't _that_ long," she rolled her eyes. Humor has always safety blanket she used whenever people got too close to her. It distracted them from her secrets and made them feel like they could trust her. It worked most of the time. With how Bucky Barnes was looking at her, she doubted it was working on him. "A month or... six. I can't remember, it's foggy, you know, with all of that brainwashing."

"Fuck," he breathed out and rested his hands on his hips, stepping away from her. "Was it serious? Was it-- did we--"

Natasha only stared at him and let him figure out all of that on his own. She regretted telling him now, seeing how conflicted he was with the whole thing. How could she have been involved with a man who wasn't all there? Then _and_ now. She wasn't the sentimental type. She didn't stay awake at night to cry for him when they took him away. The first thing she learned in the Red Room was to compartmentalize her emotions. Everything she felt for the Winter Soldier was locked away in a box somewhere in her brain. It only started rattling when she saw him again on that bridge a couple of years ago.

"I'm sorry I can't remember," he whispered and stepped towards her again, closer this time. His eyes caught hers in the dark. "I'm trying so hard."

She kept her arms at her sides, fighting the urge to reach for his face, to hold him like she has so many times before. She wanted to comfort him but she didn't know how to do that, not anymore. They were different people now. Bucky Barnes wasn't the Soldier she shared her darkness with. And she was nothing to him. "I know. It's okay."

"It's not." 

"Maybe we should turn in for the night. It's been a long day and--"

"Did we love each other?" His voice was low, barely above a whisper.

The question took Natasha by surprise. For the first time in a long time, she was caught off-guard. Did they? They never really said it. She felt strongly about him, enough to still feel a tug at her heart every time he was close by but she was never sure of what he felt for her. "I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

" _Enough._ Please, I just-- you _need_ to stop apologizing." The quiver in her voice was unexpected but she was so tired of this game. She shouldn't have started it in the first place. "Putting you under ice, taking away your memories - it's all on me, Barnes. They caught us because we were dumb and reckless. We thought we'd outsmarted them but the Kremlin had eyes and ears everywhere."

"Natasha-"

"I can still remember the night they dragged you away. Your screaming was the last thing I heard before I blacked out. I woke up days later and you were gone."

"Hey," Bucky took her hands in his and put them on his face. She only realized that there were tears in her eyes when she blinked and they fell. He towered over like he always had, his warm hands covering hers. "I'm here now. I'm here. I'll try to remember. I'll do anything."

"You don't have to."

He leaned against her touch like he used to and her heart almost burst. How did he feel so familiar and so new at the same time? Was it because the bit of the Soldier she knew was shining through or was Bucky Barnes beneath the surface all along? "I want to."

Natasha nodded at that and pulled her hands away reluctantly. She's already shown him too much of her vulnerability and it was making her uncomfortable. She needed to leave. "Listen," she cleared her throat. "I need to go, okay? Are you going to be okay?"

"Are _you?_ "

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and straightened up, clearing her throat. When she spoke, her voice was calm as if their conversation just hadn't happened. "I'm always okay, Barnes. I'll see you later."

She didn't wait for his reply and headed straight for the door, leaving him in the dark room by himself. He didn't follow her, didn't call out her name. She didn't know if she was disappointed with that too or not. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments and the kudos! <3


	4. Chapter 4

The next time she saw Bucky Barnes was a couple of weeks after their last encounter. He knocked on the door of one of the conference rooms she was occupying for paperwork that day and leaned against the doorframe. He was in gym clothes, his hair tied back into one of those man buns. Natasha was half convinced she was seeing a ghost.

"Busy?" _God,_ what did he want? Did he have some sort of revelation while he was away?

"Aren't you leaving for Berlin today?" She continued typing on her laptop, eyes never leaving the screen. She would be lying if she said she was avoiding him, taking on jobs out of town just to make sure she wouldn't bump into him in the halls. It was petty, yes, but it was what she had to do to put her feelings into a box again.

How many boxes was that now? Between her Red Room training, him, dying in a foreign planet--it was getting so heavy but she refused to acknowledge it.

" _Belarus._ And not for a couple of hours. I thought maybe you'd like to get out of that chair and spar. No one else wants to. With me, at least. I think it's the arm."

It _was_ the arm. It always has been. Back in the Red Room, the others would try not to stare at it when he'd walk past them, but they did. It was intimidating. _He_ was intimidating. But at least he wasn't asking her about their past. And she _was_ getting bored.

"You know where to find me if you change your mind." He pushed off of the doorframe and left. Natasha waited exactly five minutes before she packed up and followed him to the gym. It was a good thing she had an extra bag lying around. After changing into a sports bra and leggings, she put her hair up into a ponytail.

Natasha found Bucky by the punching bags, playing around with one. He's been waiting for her. She could tell by the way he wasn't even making an effort with the bags. She cleared her throat to announce herself but she knew that he knew she was there.

"So," her knuckles were already wrapped as she stretched her arms above her head. "We gonna do this or not?"

She walked over to the mats and Bucky followed. He stood across from her, watching her like a hawk. The deja vu wasn't lost on her. All she needed was to be twenty pounds lighter, have bangs, and it'd be just like the Red Room.

Natasha charged first, aiming for his legs because, if her memory served her right, his next move would be to roll forward. And he did, quickly throwing a jab to her side which she barely dodged. And so began their dance, with him attempting to pin her down and her trying to wrap her legs around his neck.

But she's used this move on him before, which meant he was ready to slam her down into the mat.

She groaned underneath him. Being pinned down on thin mats still hurt no matter how many times it's happened. "Surrender?"

"Never." Natasha twisted her body so that she could flip him over but that only resulted to her sitting on his chest, his hands immediately coming up to her thighs. She expected him to throw her off instantly. But his hands stayed there for a while, his fingers lingering before he threw her onto her back and pinned her to the ground with his metal arm. They were both breathing heavily, beads of sweat forming on their faces.

And then it happened.

He leaned forward and caught her mouth in his, kissing her. And she let him, her heart pounding against her chest and not just from the adrenaline of the spar. The kiss was firm but not forceful, like he was about to pull away the second she moved so she didn't. He tasted like coffee and cigarettes. He tasted _familiar._

When he pulled back from her, his eyes were frantic, confused and... regretful? It was fine, _really_ , just another punch in the gut.

"That's cheating, by the way," she commented, filling the silence between them.

"I didn't mean to," he loosened his grip on her and rolled off of her. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"You _weren't_ and that's fine." Natasha pushed herself up to sit. He remained in his position, vulnerable on the floor beside her. His lips were still pink from their kiss which only made her want to kiss him again. They let a silence fall between them, both trying to figure out what to do. She was beginning to regret coming when he spoke again.

"I've been thinking."

" _Oh boy._ "

"No, listen, I don't want to freak you out more than I already have-"

"You think kissing me freaked me out? What am I, fourteen?" She chuckled, but she really was kind of freaking out. Kind of. He didn't need to know that.

"One day I'll be able to catch up with that brain of yours, Natasha." He rubbed his temple but smiled anyway. It was nice.

"I highly doubt it, _milii moi._ "

Natasha froze, realizing the nickname she'd just used, hoping he wouldn't make a big deal out of it. He removed his hand from his face and looked over at her then, his eyes even bluer in the day than they are at night. Still handsome. He always has been. "I can't believe some asshole called the _Winter Soldier_ managed to _woo_ you."

She shook her head, a small smirk forming on her lips. "Ever think that maybe I just seduced him? I'm trained for that, you know."

"Nah. Would be a waste." She wished he'd stop belittling the power he had over his situations, over her. There was once a time where she thought he was everything to her, but she didn't tell him that. She never did. Once again, she retreated into her humor.

"You underestimate the power of those pretty blue eyes, Barnes. And in the Red Room, in that big old house, they were the prettiest things."

"Oh? I assumed that would have been you." She rolled her eyes but he continued. "He was a ghost and you... you're too good for him."

This was definitely some sort of deja vu, down to the way he was looking at her. They've had this conversation once before, cooped up together in a safe house somewhere, nothing between them but a thin layer of sweat and the affection they had for one another.

"Too good for _who?_ "

Their heads both snapped towards the entrance and Sam was there walking towards them from the door. She wondered how long he's been standing there, how much he heard.

"My ex." Natasha looked pointedly at Bucky before looking back at Sam.

"Ex? Boyfriend? Didn't know you had those." He crossed his arms over his chest before he brought his attention to the man who was still lying down beside her. "Hey, man."

"Hey."

"I have a personal life, too, Sam. I just don't announce it on Facebook."

"Facebook? You have a _Facebook?_ You're scaring me right now, Nat."

"You'll never know my secrets."

"Yeah, I don't think I want to at this point." He looked over to Bucky, who still wasn't moving. It seemed like he was enjoying being a witness to this conversation too much. "You wanna get off your ass, man? We're leaving in an hour. Did she break you or something?"

"What are you talking about? I just beat her ass."

"She's not the one stuck to the floor. Get your ass dressed and ready to leave."

"I hear you, Cap." Bucky stood the same time Natasha did. "I'll see you later, Romanoff." He glanced back at her before leaving her and Sam alone. Once he was gone, Sam turned back to her, a weird look on his face. She didn't like it one bit.

"You talk to him about your ex-boyfriends? Didn't know you two were doing heart to heart talks now." Sam raised an eyebrow at her.

"It just came up."

"Sure," he nodded. "Maybe avoid talking to him about your romantic prospects? Lest you break his little heart."

Natasha laughed a bit and shook her head as she started unwrapping her knuckles. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. He's a sneaky son of a bitch. But the way he looks at you when you're not looking... the boy's got googly eyes."

"I thought Steve was the one with poor eyesight these days, Sam," she smirked.

"You know what, it's none of my business, you know. Just looking out for my partner and all of that. If you don't care then I don't. As long as he keeps his mind straight on missions."

Natasha looked at him then, finally, her wraps in her hands now. "How is he? Out there?"

"Good. _More_ than good, actually. He just looks like a dumbass most of the time but he knows what he’s doing. He gets this scary look on his face when he’s on duty. Reminds me of you sometimes."

"Yeah, well, we were coughed out of the same machine and all that."

Sam nodded. "I know."

Natasha knew when she was being analyzed and this was one of those moments. It wasn’t on purpose, she figured, it was more because of his curiosity than anything. After all this time, he still didn’t know all there was to know about her and part of her didn’t like it but it kept her safe. She was nothing without her secrets.

"Anyway, I’m hitting the showers. Have fun in Belarus." Natasha patted his shoulder and walked past him, leaving him in the gym. The fewer lies she had to tell her friends the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! <3


	5. Chapter 5

Natasha didn't think she'd go blonde again but she had to this time. With her being the face of the Avengers and SHIELD for a long ass time, it has been easier for people (see: enemies) to spot her. The red put a target on her back and when you were trying to infiltrate an underground human trafficking syndicate, you needed to blend in. And so she did, tied up in a literal underground lair with about a dozen other girls. The group was targetting tourists in South America to sell off to rich men to be... well, to be whatever they needed them to be.

The mission was simple. Infiltrate the syndicate, find their evil lair, extract the girls, and put everyone away. It was a one-woman job but SHIELD (see: Sharon Carter) wanted her to take Bucky Barnes with her. "Just in case," she said. What that actually meant was that she needed to watch Barnes for assessment. So far, he's passed under Sam's watch. Sharon was close to clearing him for solo missions and Natasha was some sort of, what? Test? All he'd have to do was drive. But of course, he didn't like the idea of it. So there she was, sitting on the floor with a cable tie digging into her wrists and a tracker stuffed in her bra, waiting for the one-man army to get her and the other girls.

The goon that was looking after them had a machine gun in his hand and what seemed to be a broken nose just days away from healing. He was going to break that again soon, she figured. The syndicate has been operating for months now, starting small-time during the blip. Who would've known that there was still a demand for illegal bullshitry even during the most devastating event in human history? 

The girls beside her were crying, some of them begging for the man to let them go. Natasha kept quiet, listening for the beginnings of something. From a distance, she heard gunshots, which alarmed the girls. They gathered into one corner of the room which she reluctantly mimicked, her eyes darting between their guard and the door. More gunshots. The guard seemed alarmed as well, not knowing whether to check on his buddies or keep watch. And then - absolute silence. It dragged on for quite a while and Natasha couldn't help but roll her eyes. The guard pressed an ear against the door. Wrong move.

A metal arm punched through it, most likely breaking the guy's nose again. The goon stumbled back but soon remembered that he hand a gun. That was her cue. With her hands tied behind her back, Natasha lept from the group of girls to kick the gun away from him before jumping up to connect her knee to his chin, sending him back a couple of steps. A second later, Bucky Barnes had managed to open the door, shooting the man before he could retaliate. 

"God, _finally,_ " she whined, she turned her back to him so that he could cut the cable wire. 

"You told me to wait until they were asleep." He slipped out a knife from one of his many pockets and cut her loose. He then fished out another gun - hers - and handed it to her, and then gave her the knife.

Natasha thanked him with a nod and drew her attention to the women. "Alright, ladies, this is what we're going to do. We're going to follow this guy out of this labyrinth, okay? You can trust him. He only looks scary because he hasn't had his coffee yet."

"Shut up." It was his turn to roll his eyes at her. He slung the gun he had over his shoulder so that he could help Natasha with the girls' restraints. It only took them a couple of minutes, some of them still very wary of the pair. But they've been down there for days now and they haven't seen the sun in a while.

"Take point," she told Barnes and he nodded, slipping his weapon into his hands again as he moved forward. Natasha hung back to make sure no one was going to follow them. The hallway was littered with bloody bodies. Some of them were still flinching but they were harmless. The girls gathered together in between them, holding on to one another and scared out of their minds. If she was a normal person, she'd be scared too. However, this was just another workday for her.

"How far until the exit?" She called out. 

"Two turns and then up two flights."

"Cops?"

"They should be up there." Good. Sam was right about him being useful in the field. Natasha was going to make sure to put that in her report. 

The maze continued, long and horrible-smelling. Every now and again, a fallen goon would try to reach for her leg but she'd kick them away. She was careful, looking forward and back. The girls were making small noises among themselves but nothing that would potentially give them away. Bucky rounded the corner first before calling them over and disappearing in front of Natasha. She was about to follow them when she heard someone cock a gun. Just as she was turning around, the bastard pulled the trigger, the bullet grazing her arm and sending her back a couple of steps. He chuckled but he was met with a bullet between the eyes. Behind her, Bucky Barnes stood unflinching as he drew his weapon back.

"I was about to do that."

"No, you weren't." He went back to the front of the line but not before taking a quick look at her bleeding arm. 

He led the group up a flight of stairs, shooting anyone who dared move before they got a chance to pull what the man who shot Natasha pulled. The wound on her arm was burning, a sign that it was a lot deeper than your average graze, but she kept moving, tearing at the hem of the summer dress she was wearing to make up a proxy bandage. Every once in a while Bucky would look back at her, whether to check if she was alive or if she was still following them, she really didn't know but it made her feel _something_. She suppressed a groan when she pulled the fabric against her wound, one end with her hand and the other with her teeth. The girl in front of her asked her if she was alright and Natasha only nodded. All in a day's work, really.

Another flight of stairs was conquered and soon enough, the exit door was there. There were sirens outside, probably from the ambulance and the police cars. Bucky let the girls go ahead first, falling back to walk with Natasha. They burst out crying once they saw other people there to help them. Bucky and Natasha didn't necessarily make up the warmest rescue party.

"You like the blonde?" She asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction mostly to distract him from the fact that there was blood gushing down her arm.

"I like the red better." 

"I don't know. I might keep it for a little while. Might go to a beach-"

Bucky stopped when they were almost at the door and she remembered that he wasn't supposed to be there, at least not officially. He was supposed to be a ghost. "Get that checked. I'll meet you back at the safehouse." 

"It's fine, I can patch it up later-"

He put a finger against where the wound was, pressing on it, and she hissed and pulled her arm away. "Get it checked. I'll see you later."

He didn't give her time to reply before he started walking back into the building, disappearing into the darkness. Natasha did as she was told, reluctantly, while also managing to tell the other girls to refrain from telling anyone about her companion. They were confused at first but agreed anyway. She sat at the back of an ambulance while a paramedic cleaned her wound and assessed the damage. It was bad, which meant she needed to go to the hospital with them, something she refused much to the young medic's confusion. Instead, after pleasantries with the local police department, she took a cab to her safehouse. From where she stood across the street, she could see a thin stream of smoke coming out of her window. He was already there and definitely not asleep which meant she was going to hear _words._

Natasha took a deep breath and walked inside the building. She had a surgical kit there somewhere and alcohol which she could really use. She thanked the bullet for grazing her left arm instead of her right and also hoped that Bucky Barnes wasn't in the mood to argue about how she was going to give herself stitches. It was _fine_. She's done this before.

She knocked four times in a pattern they'd agreed on before entering the small apartment. It had a tiny kitchen, a table, a small couch, a bed, and a decent-sized bathroom. Not the best safehouse in the world but still safe. She kind of liked the open concept-ness of it all. All the lights were turned off and the only light she had to work with was coming from the lamp post outside. Bucky was still by the window smoking. He didn't have a shirt on. _Great._

"Did you get it fixed?" He blew a stream of smoke from his lips and looked over at her.

Natasha stalked to where the wardrobe was and pulled out her kit. "I'm working on it."

He sighed and threw the cigarette out of the window, the look on his face unreadable as he pulled the kit from her. He smelled like soap and coffee. "I'll do it. In the bathroom. Now."

She felt like a child. She hadn't felt like one in a very long time but at that moment she felt like she was being scolded by a parent or something. Which would make sense. He was like a hundred years old, right? Natasha sat on the edge of the bathtub and he managed to squeeze himself beside her, one foot in the bathtub and the other on the floor. He set the kit down beside her and took off the layers of gauze the medic put on her. "You know, hospitals have these things called doctors."

"I didn't want to go to a hospital."

"I can see that." He reached over to the kit and opened it up, take a needle and surgical thread. She moved a bit to give him a better view of the wound but she wasn't entirely comfortable with having her back towards him. Her dress was riding up her thighs, too, which didn't help. She wanted to crash. 

"There's vodka in the bag." 

Bucky stopped fumbling with the sutures to reach into the bag. Sure enough, he found a bottle of really good and expensive vodka. He opened it and took a swig before handing it to Natasha who drank a little bit more than he did. "Okay." She breathed. "Make it quick."

"In hospitals, they have anesthesia." He grumbled under his breath, holding onto her arm. "And it helps with pain." 

Natasha hissed as he pushed the needle through her skin, the strange feeling of a thread following it. She took another sip of her drink and clenched her jaw when she felt it again. She didn't even know if he knew what he was doing. More times than not, she was the one doing the patching up when they went on missions together in the Red Room. "You better not be doing a hack job right now, Barnes."

"If you took your arm to a doctor, it would look less terrible, Romanoff." His colder hand held onto her to keep her steady the rest of the 'operation'. When he was done, he took the bottle from her and drank a great amount. "You're the most stubborn person I know, you know that? And I know Steve. _And_ Sam."

She turned to face him then to take her bottle back. "You're one to talk."

"Listen, I ask help when I need it-"

She pointed to scar he had on his chest. "Geneva." And then on another on his abdomen. "Monaco."

He looked confused. His body was a map of subtle scars that healed over time through the decades he spent in his icebox. He couldn't remember Geneva and Monaco. Had he just assumed that these scars magically appeared? 

"And _you_ patched me up?"

"Who else would do it, Barnes?" Natasha took a sip of her drink, his eyes still on him. He was built like a wall. "I'm going to take a shower."

It took him a good couple of seconds before he realized that she was making him leave the bathroom. He stood and wiggled his other leg out of the bathtub, picking up the kit on his way out and closing the door behind him. Once she was alone, she sighed, cursing under her breath because her whole body was sore. She used her good hand to pull her dress over her head and toss it onto the floor along with her underwear. It was hot where they were which made the lack of hot water a sort of blessing. The water pressure was amazing on her back. She stood there for what felt like forever before she even got started with cleaning herself.

When she slipped out of the bathroom - after struggling with wrapping a towel around herself - she found Bucky on the bed, reading something on his phone. His eyes didn't leave the screen as she dug through her bag for extra clothes to slip into. She went back into the bathroom with her bunch of clothes to change, remembering the time when she could change her clothes in front of him and not bat an eyelash.

She was drying her hair with a towel when she came out again dressed in shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Bucky Barnes had transferred from the bed to the couch, which was obviously too small for him. He took one of the pillows with him and was getting ready for bed. The lights were still out, the room half-bathed with orange-yellow light. "You take the bed, I'll take the couch."

"Not with that arm you're not."

"It pains me to see you attempt to fit your legs on that tiny couch."

He just shrugged and Natasha walked over to where he was trying to lay down on the couch. "Just share the bed with me, I won't kill you in your sleep, I promise."

"No thanks. I'm not taking that risk." 

She kicked him, not enough to hurt but enough to make a point. He yelped and sat up. "Fine. I'm going. Jesus. This how you always got me into bed or what?" 

Natasha contemplated on kicking him again, harder this time just for that question alone, but she stopped herself. She chose her side of the bed and lied down. He followed shortly after, lying on his side with his back to her. Natasha checked the messages on her phone, one of them was from Sharon asking about the mission. Another was from Sam telling her not to get Barnes killed. Other than that, there were work e-mails. She tried to reply but her left arm felt so heavy she couldn't really make her hand work properly. 

Once she was done with messages, she settled into bed, turning so that she was facing the window and not the back of the man who laid beside her. It was very hot. The shower cooled her off a bit but she wasn't built for hot climates like this one. She turned in bed and was met by a broad back. There were scars there too. Her fingers hovered over one near his shoulder blade. 

"Where is that one from?"

She pulled her fingers away from his back, startled. She thought he'd been asleep. "St. Petersburg," she whispered. "There was an ambush. Knives were being thrown everywhere. It was our first mission together." The first time he held her in the dark, felt his body against her own. She could remember that he tasted like champagne and blood and he was warm, even in the winter. 

Natasha's fingers went to touch the scar, unable to rid her mind of the memories that came with it. Bucky turned to face her then, catching her wrist. His eyes were a deep blue, dark. They were so close. She didn't realize how small the bed was, how little space between them actually was. 

"What was the mission about?" He whispered and put her hand on his cheek, kept it there with his own hand. 

"A politician was selling Red Room secrets and we were supposed to terminate him. The thing is, he was on to us. It was an ambush."

He hummed and she could feel how he did underneath her hand. "What else?"

"What else?"

"Did we terminate the target?"

"Yeah, of course we did." She smiled a bit. "We just got banged up during the process. Nothing we couldn't handle. We holed up a bit for a couple of days after to recuperate."

He listened intently, searching his brain for the memories she was sharing with him. He was trying at least. Natasha appreciated it. But she was still confused as to what this all meant for them. She could only imagine how confused he was, too. 

"Natasha," he whispered again. "Can I be honest?"

She nodded and his metal thumb rubbed against the hand she had on his cheek. 

"I don't know what I feel about you." _Ah,_ she thought, _there's the stab in the gut._ "I care about you. A part of me feels like I need to look out for you and I think about you a lot when you're not there."

Natasha watched him with a straight face, regulating her breathing so that he wouldn't freak out about the fact that she was feeling like absolute shit. 

"But I don't know if it's because of what I know about you _now_ or if it's because of what you've _told_ me about us. Because I like the idea of it - of _us,_ being together. It sounds like a dream. But I wonder if-"

"You wonder if you like me or just like the dream."

He sighed but nodded. Natasha's thumb caressed his cheek as she let herself look at him one last time before pulling her hand away. She didn't think that they'd come to this. When she was young, in the Red Room, she thought they'd be able to break away from it all. They were two of the deadliest people there. But they used him against her, told her he was going to die if she resisted. So she let them take him and let them torture her for god knows how long. 

"I'm still trying to remember."

"I know." Natasha turned to face the window again both to relieve the pressure on her wound and save herself from exposing her vulnerability again. "Now get some sleep. We're flying tomorrow."

He reached for the back of her head and kind of pet her there before she felt him move to turn back around. Her heart sank to her stomach and tears formed in her eyes. The gesture he just made - he's done it before, back when she was younger. He just didn't remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is 3.2k words long? Oops??? Thank you for the kudos and comments as usual! <3


	6. Chapter 6

Natasha kept her distance from Bucky Barnes. After that night in South America where he told her what he felt, it just got too hard to look at him and not feel _something_. Whether it was disappointment or pain or regret, she didn't really know. She wrote good things about him in her report, not overtly so, just enough so that SHIELD would know that he passed the test and that he didn't need to be assigned to her again. He went back to his usual post with Sam, running with Captain America and saving people. It was a good look on him and he genuinely looked happy to be doing so. Sure, he wasn't allowed to announce himself to the world, but she had a feeling he preferred it that way, too. Meanwhile, she threw herself into more work, going on more missions alone. Sam asked her one day if there was something wrong with her and his partner because she'd stopped hanging out with them during their days off, but she only said she was busy. It wasn't a complete lie.

She busied herself with things like actually getting to know people around her by name, hanging out with her other friends because yes, she had other friends, and naming the cat that's been hanging out around her apartment building. Got her food and everything, it was so unlike her. That too - she's been going home to her apartment more frequently now than before. She would never be able to separate her work from her life but she could put a bit of distance between it. And it wasn't just because there was a bigger chance of running into Bucky at the SHIELD facility. _Totally not._

Natasha knew her neighbor's names now, too. Sometimes she'd run into them in the hall on her way home from work and they'd ask her about her day or about how she spent her time during the blip. 

No one asked her about the other thing - the dying for everyone thing. The coming back from the dead thing. Once she returned from the soul world, she went right back to work as if nothing had happened. It was only when she would slow down that she realized what she did. Clint could barely look at her anymore, full of too much guilt. She was afraid she'd lost him. Everyone else tiptoed around the fact. She'd miss Tony during those times. He would have at least made a joke about it to lighten everyone up but no one was making those kinds of jokes now.

She told him as much during her visit to his grave. Apparently, they had the funeral service at the lakehouse. Pepper still owned the property, of course, and all Natasha had to do was send her a message so that the guards would allow her on it. She brought him flowers and a bottle of her finest vodka, told him all about her Bucky Barnes thing, apologized about the thing with his parents on his behalf, and talked some more. She told him that Morgan was on her way to following his footsteps and that Pepper was coping. To an extent, they all still were. Natasha spent her afternoon there, just staring at the water, thinking about what she's lost and gained over the years.

The drive back into the city was long and slow, she savored it. The music was dull against her brain as she let her mind wander off into possibilities of the future. She saw nothing but an endless stream of missions, possibly with someone beside her but she'll most likely get through life alone. Like she always has.

It was a bit late when she got back to the city. On her way up to her apartment, her neighbor told her that someone was sitting in front of her door. They'd been too afraid to ask him to leave so they let him be. He didn't seem very dangerous but he looked like he could be. Natasha knew a few people who could be described as such. She assured her neighbor that she'll handle it, that it was just someone from work. 

Three flights of stairs later and she spotted him at the end of the hallway where her door was. He was sitting on the floor, looking down at his phone. He immediately stood when he heard her coming up, brushing himself off. She hasn't been alone with him in months. The last time they spoke, Sam was there and they were all debating about the end of the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

"Hey," she greeted, punching in the code for the lock on her door. "What are you doing here?"

"Hi," he offered a smile as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I was in the neighborhood."

Natasha couldn't help but roll her eyes as she walked inside her apartment, Bucky following closely behind her and shutting the door for her. She did a quick inspection of her apartment. It wasn't huge or anything, just enough room for her to live in. The main house was an open concept, you can see the entire house from the kitchen. There were two rooms, one was her bedroom and the other was supposed to be an office but it just became a place to chuck all of her things into. She didn't know when she became a hoarder. The apartment itself was sparsely decorated. There were a couple of succulents by the window - gifts from Sharon because she apparently needed a pet, a ridiculously expensive Degas hung above her mantle. It was a gift from Tony a few years back.

She unwrapped her scarf and shook her coat off to place on the coat hanger. She left her boots near the door and padded towards the fridge. "Do you want anything to drink? Sadly I only have water and half a bottle of rosé."

"No, thank you. I'm fine." His eyes moved slowly around the apartment, most likely looking for exits. He looked nervous, like he walked into a trap. She wished he'd relax. If there was a safe place for him on the planet, it'd be her apartment. Her very heavily armed apartment.

"When did you get back? Thought you were somewhere on the West Coast. Sit down."

He did as he was told and sat in one of the armchairs beside the couch. From the looks of it, this really _was_ a spontaneous visit. "A couple of days ago." 

"How did you know where to find me?" 

"Steve." 

Natasha sat on the end of the couch farthest from him and crossed her knees over each other, her skirt riding up a bit. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I'm not sure myself. My feet just kind of took me here." There he was again with his uncertainty. By now, Natasha was used to it. After that night in South America, she's been forcing herself to get over it, to just accept the fact that he was never going to remember her. She's been trying to move on.

"Right."

"We haven't seen each other in so long and I guess," she saw him swallow a lump in his throat. "I guess I missed you." 

Damn. Maybe she shouldn't have left that vodka with Tony. Natasha had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at that. She didn't want to dismiss him but it was getting ridiculous at this point. When was he going to let her go? This push-and-pull was tiring. She was tired. God, she really needed a drink. When she didn't say anything back, he continued talking.

"I've been thinking about you a lot and it's been keeping me up, not like I've been getting much sleep before-" he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm not good with words. But Sam told me to talk to you."

 _That,_ Natasha reacted to. She quirked an eyebrow in his direction. "You told Sam?" 

He shook his head. Another sigh. "Not about the past, no. I figured you wouldn't want that but you know how he is. He has a sense for these things." 

"He does." 

"He told me to tell you what I've told him. I've been working up the nerve, you know, since we got back from that last mission. Actually, even before that-"

"What did you tell him?" Natasha was done with this conversation. She just wanted to take a long bath and crawl into her warm bed, forget he was even here. She deserved that much.

"I told him that I'm drawn to you. He proceeded to tease me about it," he chuckled a bit but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I told him that I look for you when you're not around. You haven't been around much. That bothered me."

Natasha was waiting for it, the punch in the gut whenever he spoke about her. She kept her gaze on him, trying to read him. Instead, she noticed that he's just shaved and got a trim. He looked good, a bit younger, maybe even less tired. That was supposed to be good, but it only gave her hope she didn't need. Hope that he's gotten his mind straight. 

"I'm still confused, Natasha, and I guess that's why you've been keeping your distance. But I can't stop thinking about you."

" _Gee,_ I'm flattered." Her tone was dry, her voice laced with sarcasm. She didn't mean to be cold but they've been going in circles with this.

"Do you care about me?" The question came seemingly out of nowhere. Was he serious?

She stared at him for a while, contemplating an answer. When she spoke, her voice was low. "You know I do." 

"Even if I don't remember us?"

"You not remembering that we were together doesn't change the fact that we were. I realized that recently. I told you it's okay if you don't." 

"Am I anything like the man you cared for when you were young?" 

"Parts." 

"Did you love him?" 

"Why are you interrogating me, Barnes?"

He rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair again. Was that a _tell?_ Did he seriously have a tell? He looked like a nervous wreck. She was almost disappointed. "I just want to know, Natasha, please. I have to."

"I don't know, okay? Love..." Love is for children, she'd said before. She was a child then, right? Nineteen. Thought the world was going to be kind to her as long as she obeyed the Red Room. The world never showed her kindness until she left it, the madness of it, and realized it was a prison. "We weren't allowed that."

Bucky moved from the armchair to sit beside her, a couple of inches away. She didn't move, didn't speak, waited for him to do something, anything.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Natasha looked up at him then, confused. "Do you _want_ to leave?"

"I don't know where to go."

"Home?"

"Home." He pondered on it. "I don't know what that is anymore."

They sat there in silence. Natasha knew what that feels like - not belonging. She thought she belonged in the Red Room, in Russia, and then she thought she belonged in SHIELD, with the Avengers. But that disappeared from her when Thanos snapped his fingers the first time. She belonged to herself. Once upon a time, she thought she belonged with him.

"I'm sorry for intruding. I'll leave." Bucky got up and started for the door, Natasha following close behind him. She didn't know what it was she was feeling, why her heart felt heavy in her chest. It was only when his hand was on the doorknob that she realized she didn't want him to leave despite how hurt she was by his very presence. 

"Barnes," she whispered. He stopped in his tracks, hand still on the door. "I feel like... I feel like I shouldn't have told you about us. I- I feel like it just made things more complicated for you. If I had only kept my mouth shut then none of this confusion you're feeling would exist and we could be-- we could--"

"Natasha," he sighed and turned to face her. "It's not your fault. And besides, I think I deserved to know, you know? It was my life too. An important part, from the looks of it."

She met his eyes, her jaw tight as she thought about what to say. "If the roles were reversed, you wouldn't have told me. To protect me."

"I don't need protecting. And that would be stupid."

"Stupid, yes, but true. I thought, just this once, I could be selfish. I could want something for myself, something I lost." Her voice was still low, just above a whisper, her arms crossed over her chest. "But here you are with all of your questions and I can't answer them. I can't because I don't want you to depend on a dream. I don't want you to base your judgment of me on memories you can't even remember. I'm not that girl anymore, the same way you're not that man."

"Natasha-" he reached for her arms but she shrugged.

"Please, just listen. Listen to me. I don't like talking. I don't. So I need you to listen." He nodded and she took a deep breath. "You turned into dust before my eyes and it felt exactly like that night when they dragged you away from me. I felt so useless. So when the opportunity presented itself to correct that, to do _something_ , I did it. Not just for you but for everyone I've ever loved. I jumped off a cliff and it brought you back."

Bucky watched her closely, standing close like that, there was nowhere to hide. She was done hiding, tired of it, tired of not being able to say what she really meant. "When I came back I waited for you to recognize me again, to remember me, because I couldn't tell anyone about this. I couldn't trust them with this. But you couldn't remember me at all. Not the first months since the thing happened and not now."

"I don't mean to hurt you," he reached for her again and she didn't push him away this time. "Please tell me what to do."

"I can't do that," she shook her head. "I'm not going to ask you to be with me and I'm done waiting for you to remember. I'll just live with the fact. It's going to be okay. This is me telling you that you can stop trying. Just live your new life. Please."

"Why does it feel like you're saying goodbye? Why are you saying goodbye?" He reached for her face, cupping it gently with his flesh hand. "I don't want to lose you, Natasha."

"I'm not. You're not." He stepped closer even as she was shaking her head. "I'm just saying. You don't have to worry about me."

Bucky ran his thumb along her cheek and she couldn't help but lean into his touch. If only he knew how many times he's done this, how many times he's held her while they whispered in small corners like this. But he didn't--couldn't remember. Natasha was making peace with that. But there he was, leaning forward and catching mouth with his, kissing her slowly, softly. She unfolded her arms and stuck her hands to her sides, letting him kiss her the way he was. The kiss was so tender, so full of things between them they couldn't say. His other hand went up to cradle the back of her head, pulling her closer towards him and deepening their kiss.

Her hands, apparently losing all their self-control, found their way to his hips, her body pressing closer against his instinctively. "Nat-" he whispered against her lips before kissing her again and moving to kiss along her jaw, down to her neck. He stepped forward and she stepped back, they kept doing so until she was pressed up against the wall. Natasha pushed him off of her, panting, and he was confused for a short while before she started pulling her sweater off of her. He followed, shrugging his jacket off and letting it fall onto the floor and pulling his shirt off.

They were on each other a few seconds later, Natasha's hands finding his belt and unbuckling it while his hand trailed underneath her skirt to cup her ass. Just like old times. She couldn't help but smirk against his lips. His other hand joined the other under her skirt and picked her up, her legs immediately wrapping around his waist, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Bucky started kissing her neck again, moving to find a flat surface to set her down on. The nearest one was the dining table. He sat her down there with a thud and pulled away again so that she could work on his pants. Her fingers found his length beneath the thin fabric of his boxer briefs and held onto him, earning her a hiss. She wondered how long it's been for him, the thought getting lost at the back of her mind when she felt his hand paw at her breast, his mouth coming back to hers. He groaned into her mouth when she started pumping him, her thumb running gently over the tip of his cock. He shuddered, his hips instinctively moving against her hand. 

"Natasha," he breathed, "please."

His hands slipped underneath her skirt again and he tugged on her underwear until the flimsy black fabric was hanging on one of her ankles. His fingers raked over her thighs before pulling her to the edge of the table. Natasha gasped when she felt his fingers run along her slit, knuckles bumping against her clit. She was already wet, she didn't need him to confirm that, and when his thumb started rubbing circles against her bundle of nerves she moaned loud against his ear. 

"Fuck," he muttered. Bucky pulled his hand from her, much to her displeasure, and pulled her own hand away from him, taking himself and pumping a couple of times before aligning himself against her. "Natasha," he whispered. "Are you-"

"Just fuck me, Barnes," one of her arms wrapped around her neck, the other held onto his arm. He kissed her hard and slipped inside, waiting for a few seconds before thrusting again. Natasha broke the kiss, resting her head against his shoulder as he moved against her, eyes skewed tight. His metal hand pulled her closer against him while his flesh held onto her thigh. For a while, all she could hear was his grunting and the moans she was trying to suppress. Memories flashed before her eyes, of the many times he's held her like this before, how he felt the same but different. How he sounded- it was the same. Everything felt the same except for the fact that he didn't know that, he didn't know anything. 

The metal hand that rested on the small of her back cupped her cheek and brought her lips back against his, holding her there and kissing her sloppily, hungrily. And _god_ , it was wrong, but it felt so right. "Nat," he whispered against her lips. "Nat, I'm gonna-"

She groaned when he started thrusting harder, faster. And then he came, hips shuddering against hers as he rode out his orgasm. He put a kiss on her shoulder and pulled out of her, his hand reaching up to cup her face again but she pushed it away. His other hand slid under her skirt and she pushed that away too. "Natasha, let me-"

"No," she shook her head and moved so that she could slip off of the table. "It's fine." Her legs were a bit unsteady, her breathing uneven. _Fuck._ She can't cry. Not right now. Not with him there, clumsily trying to shove his dick back into his pants. They were a mess in every sense of the word. She picked up her sweater from the floor along with his clothes, handing him his before slipping into the bathroom.

Her talk earlier--it was supposed to be the end of it. He was supposed to just leave and forget about her, but she just _had_ to fuck him. She felt sore but it was nothing compared to how shattered her insides felt. It was her turn to be conflicted. Natasha stared at herself in the mirror and assessed the damage. She had hickeys on her neck and her lips were plump from how hard he was kissing her. Tears were forming in her eyes.

Bucky knocked after a few minutes. "Natasha?"

"I'll see you at work, Barnes," her voice didn't sound as stable as she hoped it would.

"Nat-"

" _Please._ Just--I'll see you at work."

After a good minute of silence from him, she heard her front door open and close. Natasha let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and jumped into the shower shortly after, letting herself cry for the first time in a long time. She got rid of her dining table a couple of days later, unable to look at it without wanting to burn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I knew how to write smut properly lol but thank you for the kudos and comments as usual! <3 (Also, this fic is totally self-serving in the way that it keeps ending up being an angsty mess but I hope y'all still like it anyway!!!)


	7. Chapter 7

Natasha wasn't a saint. She was far from it. In fact, she was sure there was a place for her in hell if hell was real. But she found herself feeling twisted inside ever since that night with Bucky Barnes at her apartment. The dining table was quickly replaced; she changed out the little home decor that she had and even added another succulent to the bunch Sharon had given her. Liho, her unofficial cat, has started sleeping on her couch. Natasha made the grave mistake of feeding her inside so now the little thing thought she owned the place.

When she was at the gym, she'd offer the punching bags no mercy. Anyone who'd attempted to spar with her, lost. However, it was at the shooting range where she found she released most of her stress. The familiar grip of a weapon, the cold metal turning hot in a second, the release - it was all so second nature for her that she didn't even have to think about it half the time. She savored the dull sound of a round being emptied on a faceless dummy. Sometimes she'd imagine it to look like one of her enemies, recently the enemy has been looking more and more like her.

That's where Sharon found her, at the range. She waited patiently for Natasha to finish before stepping in and speaking with her.

"I need your help. The Winter Soldier needs further assessment." The blonde handed her a tablet with Bucky Barnes' file on the screen.

> **Name:** James "Bucky" Buchanan Barnes
> 
> **Alias:** Winter Soldier
> 
> **Date of Birth:** March 10, 1917
> 
> **Place of Birth:** Shelbyville, Indiana
> 
> **Current Residence:** Manhattan, New York
> 
> **Rank:** Sergeant 
> 
> **Affiliations:** US Army (WWII), Howling Comandos (WWII), HYDRA (formerly), SHIELD (2023 - present)
> 
> **Handler:** Agent Sharon Carter

It was all there. His psych assessments, his genetic enhancements, even his dental records, but Sharon scrolled further down to reveal an assessment by Sam. Aside from reporting on missions, Sam has been assigned to assess Bucky for field missions. They were consolidated into bullet points for better reading and also because Sam hated writing reports.

> **02 December 2023.** The Winter Soldier has been having night terrors but it hasn't interfered with his work on the field. 
> 
> **05 December 2023.** The Winter Soldier punched an enemy agent through the windshield of his car. Signs of aggression have been appearing here and there. He doesn't seem to be in a good mood. 
> 
> **06 December 2023.** The Winter Soldier opened fire on enemy troops. 
> 
> **08 December 2023.** The Winter Soldier punched a hole through my god damn wall. 

_Oh Barnes._ Natasha was good at compartmentalizing her feelings. That, too, was second nature. However, it didn't seem like Bucky Barnes was all that good with his own baggage. Sharon stared at her, waiting for some sort of comment. 

"What he needs is a talk with his therapist." Natasha handed the tablet back to Sharon and started walking out of the shooting range. Sharon followed closely. 

"I talked to his therapist. She can only tell me so much without it being, you know, _unethical._ I need your professional opinion." 

"I'm not his keeper, Sharon. And besides, we've only been on one mission together." 

"Well, Sam has informed me - _off_ record, of course - that you and Bucky have some sort of connection. _Kindred spirits_ is the term he used." 

_God._ This is why she didn't do the whole friendship thing for a long time. Natasha entered the elevator with Sharon, the redhead leaning against one of the walls as it went up. "You need to stop listening to Sam. He's an unreliable source." 

"Is he really? Because I also read Bucky's reports, Nat. That mission in San Salvador. He spoke about you at length. Reported that you refused to seek medical assistance and that he had to stitch you up, sure, but glowing reviews the rest of the report. It felt a bit personal, to be honest." 

Natasha rolled her eyes, not really knowing how to respond to that. _No,_ she wanted to say, _Bucky Barnes is a confused soldier clinging onto a fantasy._ Any care he had for her, any ounce of affection, it was brought on by his guilt of not being able to remember her. It wasn't because of anything else, definitely not because they were fucking kindred spirits. At least that's what Natasha has concluded. It was better to distance herself from him, better to end any sort of relationship if one could even call it that. 

"Look, I'm just asking for a reassessment. Or even just, you know, check on him and ask him what's wrong. He wouldn't tell Sam. I... don't talk to the rest of his friends but I highly doubt he's speaking to anyone else." 

"Why is this important, Sharon?" 

"Why wouldn't you do it, Natasha?" 

Damn her. Sharon Carter was bright and sunny and very very fun when she's had a couple of drinks in her but she was, first and foremost, a good agent. Natasha found herself unable to answer yet another question. How was it that subverting interrogations was one of her specialties and yet when a friend has her cornered like this, she loses so easily. Perhaps she's truly gone tired of keeping too many secrets. She could let her have this one.

"We aren't kindred spirits and there's nothing terribly wrong with him. It's just that-" 

The elevator doors opened and it revealed the one person she's been trying to avoid. God didn't like her. She'd go so far as to say He had it out for her. 

"Hey," Sharon greeted him. He gave the blonde agent a small smile and refused to look at her. He stood in the middle a bit closer to the door than her and Sharon. Natasha's eyes wandered to the screen that projected floor numbers. She could feel Sharon's eyes on her, her reflection revealing that she was observing both of them. There was tension between them. She noticed how he held his breath, his metal hand curling into a fist. Just like that night at Steve's. However, this time she wasn't sure if it was because of the elevator or something else.

"I need your last mission report by end of day, okay?" She said after a while as the elevator slowed to get to the floor he was going to. 21st. That's where he had his therapy sessions. 

"I'm just finishing up." The doors opened. "See you later, Sharon. Romanoff." 

And he was gone. Just like that. The doors closed again and Natasha all but sank into the floor. Sharon was looking at her curiously. 

"You slept with him." She declared. Natasha was at a loss. She just stared back at the blonde on the other side of the elevator. "Oh my god, Nat." She looked more thrilled than anything. It was concerning. They got off on the 25th floor to head towards the offices when Natasha spoke. 

"It's not what you think. Essentially, it was break up sex." She shrugged and Sharon's growing smile turned into a frown. 

"Break up sex? You were together _all this time?"_

"No." _Not technically._ "It was one time."

"In San Salvador?" 

"On my dining table last week, if you must know." Natasha rolled her eyes at the memory, at how ridiculous the whole thing was, at how her dining room table ended up in some back alley a couple of days later because she couldn't stand the sight of it. She would have peeled off the wallpaper if she had time for it. Meanwhile, Sharon couldn't help but gape, her eyebrows shot way up at the news. She was enjoying this too much. "I dumped him. He tried but I couldn't. You know I don't do relationships." 

"Is he acting up because you dumped him?" 

"That would be a little too childish, don't you think?" 

"Well, why did you dump him then? He's pretty nice when he's not, you know, killing anyone. Not bad to look at too." 

"It's messy. My life is messy enough as is. And besides, doesn't know what he wants." 

"I think he just wants _you._ " Sharon had a smirk on her face. Natasha's grown fond of her over the years and they've become friends. Good friends. She'd probably trust the woman with her life when it comes down to it but she couldn't trust her with her past. She didn't think she could trust anyone with that. 

"Believe me, he doesn't."

"Well, this line of work doesn't offer good romantic prospects I'm afraid."

"I'm aware."

"I'll keep an eye on him for now. If this continues, I won't be able to clear him for solo work." Natasha nodded but Sharon was still staring at her. There was something going on in the woman's head, something Natasha wasn't sure she wanted to know. "We're doing brunch this Sunday, okay? Brunch. It's what normal people do." 

"I think we're past being normal people, Carter."

"I don't care. We're going to brunch and that's that." Sharon started walking away before Natasha could even speak. When she set her mind to it, she always got it done. She respected that.

She was on her way home that afternoon when she ran into _him_ again. When will she get a god damn break? He was leaning against one of the cars in the basement parking lot where her car was parked, hands stuffed into his pockets. He's been waiting for her.

Natasha eyed him as he stood unmoving even when she unlocked her car. She was about to open her door when he finally approached her.

"Can we talk?"

"I'm on my way home-"

"I need you to stop patronizing me." She furrowed her brows, confused. He continued. "You treat me like a child, you know that? Like I don't know what I'm doing, like I'm not all there."

"Barnes."

" _I have a name._ It's not _Barnes._ It's Bucky or even fucking _James_ but it's not Barnes. Barnes. It's so impersonal. Like you're putting a wall between us."

"Maybe I am. Putting a wall between us keeps me safe." Safety. Right.

"From what?" His voice was a little louder now, a little angrier. She probably deserved it. "From me? I would never hurt you."

_It's too late for that,_ she wanted to say. She already got herself hurt. It wasn't entirely his fault, sure, but she needed someone else to blame. "What do you want, Barnes?"

"I want - no, I _need_ you to realize that I'm not a ghost." He made his way to her side of the car, stepping into her space. She instinctively stepped back. He looked tired, but more than anything this was the most frustrated she's ever seen him in a while. And the frustration was directed at her. "I don't remember our time together, Natasha. I don't think I ever will and I'm sorry about that. But I'm still real. _Right now._ In front of you."

"I need to go home, I-"

"Despite what you might believe, I _know_ what I want." He heard. How did he hear? "I'm not trying mess you up or any of that bullshit. I'm messed up, too. I understand you better than probably anyone here and you know that. But I know what I want."

"You're clinging onto something you can't remember. You don't know-"

"There you go again. Thinking so little of my capacity to think on my own." He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Everyone else here already thinks I'm a robot, Natasha. I can't take that from you, too."

" _James-_ " That was his name. He was right. Using it made it more personal, more real. She was absolutely terrified. "What do you want?"

"I want _you._ "

"I want to believe that you mean that."

He kept his gaze on her for a while, his jaw clenching and unclenching. She should be the one apologizing for putting him in this position but her pride kept her from saying anything. "My doctor told me to start journaling a couple of months ago to differentiate what's real and what's not. It helps with the dreams, with memories. It's been helping with something else too." He pulled out a couple of notebooks from the bag he was carrying on his shoulder. She hadn't even noticed it until then. "I'm not telling you to let me in. I just want you to understand that I'm not in love with a dream."

Bucky placed the notebooks on top of her car and walked away, disappearing into the sea of cars, his footsteps fading until she was left with silence. Natasha stood there for a while, stunned by what just happened. Her life was a joke, she knew that now. But still, she took the notebooks anyway and set them down on the passenger's seat beside her. She was curious about the contents of it, curious about how his mind works beyond what she already knew. But she couldn't bring herself to read them. Not yet, anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading as always! I appreciate all the feedback I get <3


	8. Chapter 8

Natasha didn't want to read Bucky Barnes' journals because she was terrified of what she might find in them. She told Sharon that much during brunch. They got together that Sunday at a restaurant by the park. It was ridiculously expensive and Natasha wouldn't have spent so much on food but Sharon insisted that they treat themselves. Plus, the mimosas weren't that bad either. It was getting a lot colder outside now that December was rolling in. If she was in Russia, she'd be wearing multiple layers to fend off the icy weather. New York had a different climate. The sun still came out up despite the early morning chill.

Sharon suggested that she take some time to read the journal, that it could be enlightening. She also suggested that they do brunch the following week since there was going to be a sale at Barneys then and she was determined to drag Natasha with her.

"We're getting significantly older, Nat, we deserve some fun," the blonde said after her third mimosa. After dropping her off at her apartment, Natasha went ahead and ran her errands. She wouldn't have done these things if she wasn't avoiding the notebooks that sat on her coffee table. Liho had tried to get her claws in them but she shooed her away.

That night, after her shower, she sat in front of the journals and nursed a cup of tea. Liho was sleeping on the armchair Barnes sat in when he was last in her apartment. "Well," she sighed, picking one up. "It's now or never."

His handwriting was the same as she remembered it, jagged loops. The first couple of entries talked about his dreams, mostly, and how he'd wake up at night with no idea where he was. He wrote everyday, simple entries. Kind of like he was just making sure that he had something to read in case something happened. Natasha flipped through more pages, her eyes mostly scanning until she landed in June.

**2 June 2023**

> _I used to love the summer. When I was a kid, summer meant spending all day outside and playing with friends. We'd run through New York and come home when the sun set. A lot has changed since then. The streets are too crowded, there are too many cars. It won't be safe for kids to run around in this city. Summer isn't for me anymore. It's too hot. Being frozen for the better part of the century probably contributed to that._
> 
> _I've been trying not to think about it too much. My time in Wakanda was good. It was the last thing I could remember before I turned into dust. The princess helped me with my memories but it seemed, for the longest time, that I was only watching a movie about myself. That the boy who ran the streets was a different person. I find myself looking forward to winter._

**5 June 2023**

> _I woke up in the middle of the night with a jolt, like I was pushed off a building. The dream I had was about Howard. I knew him. He was a brilliant man, funny, a bit cocky but so was I back in the day. We had the same taste for whiskey and women. He recognized me that day. When I killed him. But I couldn't remember who he was. I can't even remember what I was thinking that night, if I was thinking at all. His blood is in my hands. I hope he forgives me._

**16 June 2023**

> _Steve invited his friend over for dinner. She's funny. She has the driest humor and loves to point out how old Steve was. He dragged me into it by saying I was technically older than him and he was right. But she didn't laugh as much at that. She was observing me cautiously. Was she mad about the times I shot her?_

**23 June 2023**

> _Steve's friend, Natasha, hung out with me and Sam during lunch and I apologized for Odessa and DC. She smiled (it was nice) and told me it was fine. There was something with the way she looked at me that said she was telling the truth. But then again, she was a trained soviet spy. A Black Widow. Maybe she secretly hates me and is waiting for a chance to kill me._

**4 July 2023**

> _It was Steve's birthday and he invited everyone out for dinner. Pepper Potts had a whole restaurant reserved just for the party. It was the fanciest shindig I've been to. I wore a dress shirt and everything. I thought I was dressed to the nines until Natasha showed up in a little black dress. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. I still think she wants to kill me. She barely said anything to me all night. Maybe she lied when she told me it was fine. I understand. I did almost kill her. Twice._

**12 July 2023**

> _I've been assigned to partner up with Sam to go on missions. My nightmares haven't been that bad and it seemed like SHIELD trusted me enough to let me assist the new Cap. He's still an ass but I like him._

**23 August 2023**

> _I haven't been able to write in a while because being Captain America's personal assistant is a full-time job. Not that I'm complaining. I like the adrenaline. It makes me feel like I'm alive, doing something for a good cause. Saving lives for a change instead of taking them._
> 
> _Steve invited me and Natasha for dinner since Sam was still working on something overseas. She told me we've crossed paths before when she was young but I can't remember. Maybe whatever it was I did back then is the reason she avoids talking to me directly. She makes me nervous. In more ways than one._

**5 September 2023**

> _Natasha is a good sparring partner. For one, she didn't hold back. She was nible and graceful at the same time, like water through my fingers. For some reason, it felt like she knew my every move. She bested me three times before she finally let me win. It was obvious that she did. Maybe she felt bad for me._
> 
> _I asked her again about how she knew me before. She chose her words carefully. She's hiding something from me, told me that we were something more. I feel like I know what she meant but it doesn't make sense that someone like her... with someone like me..._

**15 September 2023**

> _I found Black Widow files in Ukraine. Natasha's files were mostly blacked out. Everything was in Russian, mostly coded, how I managed to navigate those papers is still lost to me. It was like slipping on a familiar mask._
> 
> _I told Natasha about it, about the files, about how she was forced to go under what they called a 'reprogram' because of fraternization with a redacted cause. I was the redacted cause. It didn't make sense but, at some point, Natasha Romanoff and the Winter Soldier had an affair. She looked so torn up about it. I wanted to comfort her but she wouldn't let me. Seeing me again... I know now why she looks at me the way she does. She knew me the entire time._

**28 September 2023**

> _I've been trying to make sense of my long life. I was born in 1917. That's more than a hundred years ago. I went to war, was good at it. I fell off a train. I became the Winter Soldier, was good at that too. My mind was returned to me. Somewhere in between that was the life I lived with Natasha when we were in the Red Room._
> 
> _I find myself thinking about her a lot. She used to hang around Sam and Steve during days off but she's always gone these days. Was she avoiding me? I think I miss her._

**12 October 2023**

> _I kissed her. I kissed her and she didn't kill me for it (which is good). She still makes me nervous but I think it's clearer now why she does. I wonder if she still has feelings for the Winter Soldier, if she loved him at all. He didn't deserve it. I don't know if I should be jealous of him or not for having someone like her in his life when he didn't even know who he was. What an asshole._

**31 October 2023**

> _The mission was going well when some asshole pointed a gun at her. She got hurt and I killed him without even thinking. I thought he got her. I wouldn't know what I would have done if he had. I had to patch her up because she apparently hates hospitals._
> 
> _And then we talked. The scars on my body, she remembered where I got them. I didn't even know where I got them, just assumed it was from previous missions. All I want is to remember her, remember that time. That's what she wants too. What am I clinging onto? When did she become so important to me? Is she really or am I chasing a dream?_

**9 November 2023**

> _I'm so stupid. I really am. For someone who used to be considerably smart when he was younger, I'm so fucking stupid. I've lost her, haven't I? That night in San Salvador. I should have just shut my mouth. Kissing her that one time didn't scare her away but apparently admitting that I felt conflicted definitely did. She probably thinks giving me space would help me but it's not helping at all._
> 
> _I keep looking for her but she's good at hiding. We have that in common._

**25 November 2023**

> _I fucked up. I fucked up..._

**29 November 2023**

> _My doctor told me that I need to list down my emotions and not just events, that I have to take note of what I'm feeling in order to make sense of them. I don't know what I'm feeling. I don't have the words to properly convey what I'm feeling. I know I'm angry, mostly at myself, partly at her for pushing me away but I guess that was my fault too. I know I fucked up. I know I probably lost her forever and I thought I was ready for that but I'm not. I thought I knew a lot of things but apparently, I know nothing._

**8 December 2023**

> _I punched a hole through Sam's wall because he's been bugging me about Natasha, asking about if I asked her out or not yet, if I managed to get through to her. Normally, I'd ignore him. Normally, I wouldn't punch through a fucking wall because of his persistent bugging._
> 
> _But I realized something as Sam talked to his landlady on the phone about the hole in his wall. I wanted nothing more than to hear her laugh at her own stupid jokes. She would have made a joke about the fucking wall. She would have laughed her ass off at the sight of it._
> 
> _She doesn't make me nervous because I know she can kill me. She makes me nervous because she's everything I never knew I wanted. (And also because she can kill me but that just adds to it, I think.)_

Natasha had to take a deep breath and close the journal. She looked over to Liho, still sleeping in the chair. There was a heavy feeling in her chest. A feeling of guilt, resentment towards herself. She needed to see him. Need to talk to him face to face. She's had enough of these games, enough skirting around her feelings while stepping all over his. She took the journals with her and started driving. It was four in the fucking morning but she didn't care.

She knocked on his door, her heart pounding in her chest, hands gripping onto his journals like her life depended on it. She realized after waiting for two whole minutes that he was probably not there, probably off somewhere with Sam. Or he probably didn't want to see her. Not after the shit she kept pulling. God. Natasha knocked again, louder this time.

When the door finally opened, the man who stood in front of her looked confused, tired. There was still a bit of sleep in his eyes. She didn't even know what to say, didn't get to work that out on her way over. He looked at the journals she was clutching in her hands and gestured for her to come inside. Natasha did, still working out what to say to him. Why was she there? And, more importantly, did he even want her there?


	9. Chapter 9

Natasha entered his space cautiously, eyes wandering around the sparsely decorated apartment. It was considerably dark, just a couple of lamps turned on. Good, she thought, it was easier to hide in the dark. He knew that. He locked the door behind him and watched her intently, eyes drifting to her hands where his journals were.

He looked tired. His pajamas hung low on his hips and even with winter rolling in, he slept without a shirt on. He always did run a bit warmer than most people.

"What are you doing here, Natasha?" He asked even though he knew exactly why she drove across the city to get to his place at five in the morning. 

"I finished reading your journals." Natasha didn't know what to do with them. She found a place for them on a side table beside the couch. There was a pile of books there. She realized that there were small stacks of books everywhere.

"I can see that."

"I'm returning them."

"It's five in the morning."

"I know," she sighed. "I'm sorry for waking you. I'll-- I'll go."

She tried to get to the door but he put himself in front of her, a wall blocking her way. Goddamnit. This is what happens when she doesn't think something through a hundred times before doing it. She gets trapped. The funny thing is she set this one up herself.

"James," his name still felt strange on her lips but she made it a point not to call him _Barnes_ again. 

"You can stay." 

Natasha finally looked up at him then, confused mostly, unsure of what to do or say next. She hadn't prepared some grand speech beforehand, hadn't even counted on him being there. "I shouldn't."

"Why not?" He didn't seem mad, at least, which made her feel uneasy. He should be mad. All she’s done is bring him trouble.

"It wouldn't be fair to you."

"Why?"

"Because unlike you, I don't know what I want, James." He reached for her face but she didn't push him away this time. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When she spoke again her voice was low, soft. She was done putting up walls. "I don't know much of anything anymore."

"That's not true. You know what I feel."

When Natasha opened her eyes again, she was met with the blue of his. "I don't deserve it. I'm not as great as you think I am."

His other hand came up to cup the other side of her face, touching her as gently as he could. She was sure he was the only thing holding her up. "Natasha, I've killed hundreds of people. _Hundreds._ You don't get to do that to yourself."

Bucky pulled her closer against him, enveloping her in his arms. He was so warm, his embrace so familiar yet different. Natasha had her ear pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was steady compared to how loud hers was. She closed her eyes again and just listened to him breathing, let herself get lost in the feeling of being held. 

"We're so fucked up," she whispered after a while. "I'm sorry."

"Shhh. It's fine," he squeezed her tighter. "I'm just relieved that you don't think I'm a creep. For writing about you... extensively..."

Natasha pulled back a bit then to look at him, a small smile on her lips. "It's sweet. Didn't think you had such opinions about my jokes."

He smiled back at her and pushed her hair out of her face. "Your jokes are horrible."

"You said you liked them."

" _I_ do. They're horrible for _other people._ " He chuckled and Natasha all but swooned at how relaxed he looked, how... happy. But she couldn't let herself feel any sort of relief yet. There was still the matter of her not knowing what she felt for him. Maybe she needed to see that therapist of his herself.

Barnes-- _James_ tilted her chin up. She only then realized that she's retreated back into her mind, into the locked room in her brain she used to ignore. "Hey," he said. "Where'd you go?"

"I'm sorry, I just--" She pulled away from him and his warm body and straightened herself up, clearing her throat. "Can I be honest?"

"Of course."

"I don't want you to feel like I'm only here because of who you were to me." He nodded, hanging onto her every word. She took a deep breath and continued. "I care about you, I do, but what if I'm the one chasing a dream? Why are you smiling?"

He was smiling. It was so... confusing. She was about to pour out her heart on his living room floor and he was... smiling? Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, her brows furrowed. James approached her and took her face in his hand again. Before she could protest, his lips were on hers, kissing her. 

When he pulled away, took a step back, eyes on her she tried to process what happened. What the fuck just happened? Her heart was racing. "What the hell?"

"You're beautiful," he declared, looking particularly proud of himself. Natasha looked down for a second to check on herself. She was wearing sweats and an oversized shirt, didn't even bothering putting a bra on before she left the house because she was in a hurry. Her face was bare and her hair was probably a mess too. 

"You are so strange."

"Yes. But I'm not the one who drove across town at five in the morning just to return my dumb journals."

"What are you trying to say?”

He took a step towards her with the smile still on his face. “I’m saying that you don’t do that for ex-boyfriends who can't remember you." 

"Technically, you weren't my boyfriend."

"Thus furthering my point. Natasha, what does your gut tell you? Stop over analyzing this. Stop thinking of all the different ways this could go wrong. Just take a breath and say what you feel."

"Wow. Your therapist must be really good." 

" _Natasha._ " 

"My brain is telling me to leave while I still can. You're a security risk and you make me nervous." 

"Because I can kill you?" 

"No. Because you're unpredictable and that's terrifying." 

"That's life." 

"Not for me, you know that." She closed her eyes again, her breath shaky from trying not to cry. "I'm not good at this whole talking about my feelings thing." 

"I can tell." 

"But I want you to know that I wouldn't hurt you on purpose." Natasha moved closer towards him. "I already lost you. Twice. I wouldn't know what I would do if I lost you a third time." 

"Very big proclamations for someone who doesn't know what she feels." He wiggled his eyebrows a bit and smiled. She had tears in her eyes and there he was, _smiling._

"I hate you,” she sniffed and wiped the tears away from her eyes. He tried helping, but it was mostly an excuse to hold her again. This was going way better than she originally thought it would. Having something good happen usually meant something bad would follow. But then he started kissing her, slowly and tenderly, and the thought floated away. 

She melted into his kiss, her arms wrapping around him and pulling him closer. He pulled away, lips pink and smiling down at her. There was a look on his face she’s never seen before, a tenderness in the way he looked at her. It wasn’t like the way he looked at her in the Red Room, it was… different… _better._

Natasha put her hand on his cheek, her thumb caressing his face and smiling before pulling him in for another kiss - just as soft, just as tender. His hand found its way underneath her shirt, fingers caressing her lower back. He pulled her closer, their bodies pressed against each other as he pressed kisses along her jaw, down her neck. His hands found her ass, which was always great, and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around her instinctively, her lips finding his again as he navigated through his apartment. She was relieved when she landed on something soft--a bed. 

“Mmm,” she smiled against his lips. “This is a nice change.”

“Don’t even go there,” he sat up and tugged her shirt over her head. His mouth immediately found a spot on her shoulder near her collarbone, nipping at the skin there before moving down her body, trailing kisses over her chest. It wasn’t hurried, no, he moved slowly, as if savoring each kiss he was leaving her body. They were never afforded the luxury of time when they were in the Red Room. Everything was always rushed, _intense._

The sky was that shade of blue that signaled dawn breaking. She could see it through his windows. They weren’t surrounded by darkness anymore. Soon, after his tongue did a number on one of her nipples, he continued with his descent. He started tugging on her sweatpants. She kicked them off along with her underwear and moved up on the bed so that she could lay down on his pillows. Everything around her smelled like him - his sheets, his pillows - it was that cologne, a hint of cigarette smoke, and soap. She would have laughed out loud had he not pressed his lips on the inside of her thigh, so close to where she needed him.

Natasha looked down at the man between her legs, her fingers carding through his hair as he trailed more kisses on her body until, finally, his mouth found her center. Her breath hitched, her toes curling. His fingers joined him soon, running through her folds and she squirmed underneath his touch. He continued moving slowly, his tongue doing wonders on her, and it was pure torture. 

A moan escaped her lips when his fingers slipped inside of her, her hips moving on their own accord. She could feel her blood rushing to her head and her breathing was becoming uneven, hitching whenever he touched a particular nerve. 

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” she moaned again when she felt another finger. His pace quickened slightly as her thighs squeezed around his head. He used his metal arm to keep her hips from squirming. This definitely wasn’t what she had in mind when she drove over but she wasn’t about to complain, not when he was doing whatever the hell it was he was doing with his mouth. 

“James,” she tried not to pull on his hair but she did, her other hand gripping on the sheets underneath her. “I’m--”

She was pretty sure he heard him say something before she came, but her brain didn’t register what it was. Her thighs were shaking as she rode out her orgasm on his mouth. He eased her through it, keeping his metal hand on her abdomen to keep her from rising off of the bed. 

She was breathing heavily when he kissed her inner thigh one last time before moving up and kissing her. She could taste herself on his tongue, could feel how hard he was through his pajamas as he half laid on top of her. His kisses were soft and when he pulled away from her, he was smiling. He pushed her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead.

“You’re amazing.”

“We’re only getting started, sweetheart.” They’ve never had sex in the daylight, she realized as the sky turned a lighter shade of blue that almost matched his eyes. Her hand snaked down his side until it reached the elastic of his pajama bottoms, her fingers moving past them to take a hold of him. He gasped feeling her cold fingers wrap around him.

“Natasha,” he held onto her wrist, “I need--”

Natasha kissed him, a bit harder than how he’s been kissing her the whole time, and pushed him to lie on his back. She still felt warm from her recent orgasm, and very sensitive. Still, slipped his pajamas down his muscular thighs and dropped it on the floor along with the rest of her clothes. His eyes followed her as she positioned herself over his hips, her knees on either side of him. She took hold of his length again, eyes locked on his as she sank onto him. He let out a strangled moan, hands immediately coming to grip on her hips as she adjusted to the size of him.

James’ fingers dug into her skin as she rested her hands on his chest, the smallest movement from her elicited a moan. She needed a bit of time, still sensitive because of him. But when she did move, oh boy, she felt like the most powerful woman on the planet with the way he looked at her, the way he held her, the sounds he was making. 

It was definitely different. What she had with the Winter Soldier when she was young was special, definitely, but it wasn’t this. The sun was rising outside of his windows, the city waking up along with it, and she didn’t care. She was used to rushing through things like affairs and sex but she was basking in the fact that she could do this all day and no one was going to break down the door and drag him away from her.

His hand came up to run a thumb over a sensitive nipple. His other hand gripped hard on her thigh even though he was trying not to. That was definitely going to leave a bruise, but again - she didn’t mind it at all. Natasha rocked her hips a little faster, more aggressive, bringing herself to another climax. His hips moved against her, pushing deeper inside of her as he chased his own high. Her grip on his shoulders kept her from toppling over and it wasn’t long before she came, James following seconds later.

He moaned beautifully when he did and she doesn’t think she’s heard him do that before. They were always so quiet, trying so hard to hide in the dark, but they were free now. She slipped off of him and kissed him deeply, holding him in place before she let herself fall on top of him. They were sweaty and panting and honestly so tired, neither of them having had slept. But it was nice. James held her against him, fingers tracing patterns on her back. She listened to the steady beating of his heart for a while.

“So,” he started, kissing the top of her head. “What are we now?”

Natasha lifted her head to look at him, a smirk on her face. “I don’t know. Friends?”

James laughed at that, a big hearty laugh that echoed through his mostly empty bedroom. “Right. _Friends._ ” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and reached up to kiss her. “Well, do you want breakfast?”

She shook her head and tucked herself underneath his chin again, pulling herself closer against him. “I kind of don’t want to move, definitely not because I _can’t_ but because I just don’t want to.”

“Okay,” he kissed the top of her head again and rubbed her arm. “Let’s not move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this a little angstier than how it turned out but I decided against it because we all deserve /some/ fluff. Kudos and comments are always appreciated <3


	10. Epilogue

There was a calm in the way she slept beside him, like she was really at rest this time and not just sleeping because she needed to. It was alarming just how much she’s grown on him, how much she’s become such an important part of his everyday life over the past couple of months. He was right to look forward to winter after all. He didn’t think his life could end up like this, with her by his side, but it was… _nice_ . For once, he wasn’t second-guessing his every move. He was free to just _be_. He told her once that he didn’t know what home was anymore. Maybe this was it - waking up next to her and feeling like he had the whole world in his arms. Did he love her? It was too early to tell. But he knew he’d put himself between her and a bullet. Was that love?

They spent the whole day inside - they were usually at her apartment - he even had his own drawer there and everything but they ended up at his place the night before, fumbling in the dark after going out for a few drinks. Natasha insisted that she cook for him because he was going away on a mission that evening and she was feeling _domestic_ , whatever that meant. He watched her work around his kitchen, cursing every couple of minutes under her breath when she realized she’s forgotten to add something. A spice or a whole vegetable. She was cooking stroganoff - because _of course_ she was - and she looked beautiful.

Her cooking was nice. It tasted nothing like anything he’s ever had but she made up some excuse about it being _authentic Russian stroganoff_. By the time they were done eating it was already late in the afternoon and they decided to go for a walk. Only a couple of idiots would go for a walk in New York City in the middle of February. It was extra cold that day which gave him an excuse to stuff her hand inside his jacket as they walked through the park. She was beautiful. He really still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that once upon a time, when she was younger and he wasn’t in his right mind, she cared for him. 

She caught him staring at her while she was buying coffee for them. Asked him what was wrong. What she didn’t know was that there was nothing wrong at all, and that was kind of terrifying. He committed every single freckle on her face to memory, grasping onto them as if they’d disappear if he blinked. He didn’t share that, didn’t share the fact that he was scared of waking up one day and forgetting about her again. He’d only recently discovered that he was still a man capable of accepting affections. To lose that would be hell.

They found shelter under the Bethesda Terrace when it started snowing again. There were only a couple of people there, like them, trying to escape the snow. She smiled at the view, at the white flakes falling, and then at him. And then he kissed her because why the hell not? He could tell that she was surprised by it and pulled away. She still wasn’t used to them being affectionate in public. It was a hard habit to break, always having to hide. He understood and backed away but she held his hand and reached to kiss him again. She tasted like coffee and all the good things that life could offer him. If he could, he’d tell Sam to go on the mission alone. He’d much rather spend another night watching old movies with her.

He had four hours until he had to leave for about three weeks. They were having dinner at one of the restaurants near his place that they’ve started frequenting. They even have regulars now, like at the diner near her place where they’d get their breakfast. Whenever he’d stop by there on the way home to her, the old lady would smile at him and fix up their breakfast with a knowing look. He liked it. It made him feel like he was just a regular man in a regular relationship. Like everyone else.

“James,” she said as she was finishing off the slice of cheesecake they were sharing. “You don’t think we could go for a drink before you head off, right?”

“Sam would kill me if I attempt to fly a jet under the influence.” He reached across the table and laced his fingers with hers. 

“Well, maybe he could fly the jet for once. He’s supposed to be an expert navigator and all that.” She took the last bite of the cheesecake and washed it down with the rosé she’d been drinking. He opted for water because Sharon was about to clear him again, finally, and he didn’t want Sam reporting that he’d been drunk.

The alcohol made Natasha’s cheeks a little pink but she wasn’t drunk, not in the slightest. They split the check like they always did and began their journey home. They walked slowly - well, slow for New Yorkers anyway, just to take in the city at night. There were still a lot of people outside despite how cold it was but they didn’t feel watched. One of the best things about New York was how easy it was to disappear into. He could kiss her in the middle of the street and no one would bat an eyelash. And he did, right in front of a flower shop selling their last bunch of flowers for the day. 

She didn’t pull away from him this time, instead wrapping her arms around his neck to pull herself closer to him. Again, he took note of every detail of that moment and made sure he kept close to his heart. It was only when they heard someone gasp that they pulled away from each other.

_Shit._

Sharon had walked out of the flower shop with a bouquet in one hand and what looked like a bag of groceries in the other. The look on her face was priceless, the panic of having someone who knew them settling in his gut moments later. 

“I cannot believe this,” the blonde woman said and yet she had an expression of glee on her face. It was confusing but thankfully Natasha took the lead.

“Sharon,” she said. “You can’t tell anyone. Not yet.”

“I wasn’t planning to but holy shit. I called this. Remember? I called it.” This was all still very confusing for him. He didn’t know what to say or what to do. He instinctively reached for Natasha’s hand and held onto it.

“Well, James has that mission he needs to go to with Sam tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, right, that mission. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sharon reached to hug Natasha and then awkwardly hugged Bucky too. “You do right by her or I’ll kill you myself, you understand?”

“I’ll beat you to it.” That earned him a punch in the arm from the small woman beside him but it was true. This was the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time and he wasn’t going to do anything to screw it up. He’d stay with her as long as she’d have him. It was pathetic. Old Bucky would agree that it sounded pathetic. But Bucky Barnes who fought in the war was young and stupid. He wouldn’t have known a good thing even if it hit him in the face. 

They said their goodbyes and moved on with Sharon walking in the opposite direction as them. He didn’t even know they lived in the same neighborhood. Maybe it was time to move?

“I _could_ drive you to the airport, you know,” Natasha suggested when they got back to his apartment. He was just supposed to make sure all of his electronics were unplugged and grab his bag so that he can leave.

“And have Sam question us? No thanks.” He wanted to spend more time with her, he really did, but at the same time, they were both enjoying their time together by themselves. He was mostly taking cues from her and from the way she told Sharon not to tell anyone, he assumed she didn’t want Sam to know either.

“Want to keep me all to yourself?” She lingered near his doorway and watched him pack up his stuff and unplug his shit.

“You know I do.” He moved towards her after turning off all of his lights. The only light they had was coming from the hallway, from the door they’d left ajar. “Wish I didn’t have to leave.”

“Me too.” Natasha had that look on her face that was half amusement and half her trying to seduce him into abandoning his mission so that he’d feel guilty and stay. She’s used that on him before, many times. But he wasn’t going to fall for it.

“Come on. I’ll drop you off.” 

He paid a cabbie a hefty amount to drive them all the way across town and wait for him as he dropped Natasha off at her doorstep. He lingered at the top of her stoop while she made eyes at him. It was so easy to just go upstairs and stay there with her. Her cold fingers reached for his cheek as she smiled a smile he’s never really seen on her before. She looked young, innocent, like she was smiling at someone she was seeing for the first time.

Naturally, he leaned down to kiss her, because that’s become one of his favorite things to do. When they pulled away from each other, he felt like something has shifted in the air between them. 

He shrugged it off, it was probably nothing. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. Want anything from Europe?” 

“Just you in one piece.” It was cheesy. Extremely cheesy. She knew this and couldn’t help but smirk in the end. “Maybe those chocolates I like from Switzerland.”

“Duly noted.” He pressed a kiss on her lips one last time before walking down the stairs. Any more kissing and he’d be paying the cab double of what he already offered. Or maybe he wouldn’t make it to the airport at all.

She waved at him goodbye as the cab started driving off. He watched from the side mirror as she entered her building and relaxed in his seat when he was far enough away. The cabbie turned on some old-sounding music and looked at him weirdly through his rearview mirror. 

“What?” 

“You love her?” 

“Yeah,” he admitted. If he was going to confess his feelings to anyone, it’d be to a random cabbie in the middle of New York. A _classic_ Bucky Barnes move.

“She love you?” 

He smiled thinking about the possibility of it. “I hope she does.”

“Trust me, son. The way she was looking at you? It’s a miracle she even let you go.” 

The cabbie just smiled to himself and turned up the music some more. Bucky occupied himself by watching the streetlights go by. When he used to leave for war, he loved it. Seeing the world, being of purpose, fighting for what’s right - it was thrilling. It never occurred to him that he left three girls without an older brother since they were living fine with their relatives. It was all play for him. That’s why he threw himself into it, that’s why he was _good_ at it. But now, he had someone he wanted to come back to - to come _home_ to. He had a home and it wasn’t a place. It was a person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I didn't know how to end this fic. There were a lot of different possibilities that I was considering but this felt like the right one? I hope you guys agree with me lol
> 
> Anyway, thank you all so much for reading, leaving me sweet comments, and the kudos! I appreciate every single one of you so much <3


End file.
